The rotten driver

[Tamara de Lempicka, Autoportrait (1925]
[Ese mismo año F.S.FItzgerald publicó The Great Gastby]

Jordan Baker instinctively avoided clever, shrewd men, and now I saw that this was because she felt safer on a plane where any divergence from a code would be thought impossible. She was incurably dishonest. She wasn't able to endure being at disadvantage and, given this unwillingness, I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when she was very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to the world and yet satisfy the demands of her hard, jaunty body.

It made no difference to me. Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply - I was casually sorry, and then I forgot. It was on that same house party that we had a curious conversation about driving a car. It started because she passed so close to some workmen that our fender flicked a button on one man's coat.

'You're a rotten driver,' I protested. 'Either you ought to be more careful, or you oughtn't to drive at all.'
'I am careful.'
'No, you're not.'
'Well, other people are,' she said lightly.
'What's that got to do with it?'
'They'll keep out of my way,' she insisted. 'It takes two to make an accident.'
'Suppose you met somebody just as careless as yourself.'
'I hope I never will,' she answered. 'I hate careless people. That's why I like you.'

[Scott Fitzgerald, Francis (1994), The Great Gatsby, Londres: Penguin. P.64]

Siempre me ha fascinado esta escena, en parte porque no la comprendía totalmente, en parte porque es crucial para entender un libro en el que las fuerzas al volante son tan importantes (el dreamboat de Gastby termina encallando en la piscina, por no hablar de otros choques). El video de The Verve que colgué el otro día me la trajo a la memoria, pero de alguna manera ha enrutado mi pensamiento por otras vías. Yo también soy cinco años demasiado vieja para mentirme a mi misma y llamarlo honor.

A los que tengan esta edición y hayan leído el libro: la página 184 cierra la conversación. Construye el libro y derriba los pedestales.

Babel y Babilonia

[Cada vez es un comienzo]

Discover Sigur Rós!

Bjartar Vonir Rætast
Er Við Göngum Bæinn
Brosum Og Hlæjum Glaðir
Vinátta Og Þreyta Mætast
Höldum Upp Á Daginn
Og Fögnum Tveggja Ára Bið
Fjarlægur Draumur Fæðist
Borðum Og Drekkum Saddir
Og Borgum Fyrir Okkur
Með Því Sem Við Eigum Í Dag
Setjumst Niður Spenntir
Hlustum Á Sjálfa Okkur Slá
Í takt við tónlistina
Það Virðist Enginn Hlusta
Þetta Er Allt Öðruvísi
Við Lifðum Í Öðrum Heimi
Þar Sem Vorum Aldrei Ósýnileg
Nokkrum Dögum Síðar
Við Tölum Saman Á Ný
En Hljóðið Var Ekki Gott
Við Vorum Sammála Um Það
Sammála Um Flesta Hluti
Við Munum Gera Betur Næst
Þetta Er Ágætis Byrjun

[Sigur Rós, Ágætis Byrjun]

Primera foto de la pared

[Libros a la calle]

Pensaba que ya estaba por encima de la polémica de "pintadas sí, pintadas no". Pero ahora que he pasado dos semanas de turista me he dado cuenta de que me encabrona ver las paredes pintarrajeadas sin más objeto que dejar la firma personal o el alias. ¡Creí que ya habíamos superado eso! Me hace pensar en cierto grafito que se encontraba por todas partes en la ciudad de mi adolescencia. Todavía no sé quién o quienes eran los famosos "Jinchos" (y tal vez sea mejor), pero es el tipo de rayajos que me disgustan. ¿Quedará alguno de entonces? ¿Vaga por las calles el viejuno artista todavía? ¿Debería hacer una expedición para comprobarlo? La respuesta a la última es no, el resto...

Pero a veces, y sólo a veces, salta de la pared una verdad indiscutible o una imagen se clava en el corcho interior aunque sea por unos minutos. Esta foto inicia la serie que he ido tomando de ese tipo de imágenes. Las ha habido mejores - pero no llevaba cámara - o la llevaba pero no me atrevía a sacarla (eso pasa menos cada vez). Alguien lleva años haciendo estos collages por el barrio: pinta una situación alrededor de un elemento cualquier del mobiliario. En este caso pegó el elemento a la pared, y el resultado es aún mejor. Tiene un par de años, si no me equivoco.

La típica entrada de prueba

[Ya que empezamos a caminar, un vídeo que viene al caso]

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet,
you're a slave to the money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you
to the places where all the veins meet, yeah
No change, I can't change,
I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here in my mold
But I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no
Well, I've never prayed,
But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah
I need to hear some sounds
that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine,
let it cleanse my mind , I feel free now
But the airwaves are clean
and there's nobody singing to me now
No change, I can't change,
I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here with my mold
And I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no
(Well have you ever been down?)
(I can't change, I can't change...)
(Ooooohhhhh...)
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet,
trying to find some money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you
to the places where all the veins meet, yeah
You know I can't change,
I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold
And I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no
(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(I'll take you down the only road
I've ever been down)
(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(I'll take you down the only road
I've ever been down)
(Been down)
(Ever been down)
(Ever been down)(Lalalalalalaaaaaaaa...)
(Ever been down)
(Ever been down)
(Have you ever been down?)
(Have you ever been down?)
(Have you ever been down?)

[The Verve, Bittersweet symphony]